


Incapable(?)

by SasuSoul



Series: New Rules/Incapable [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Sex, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Bottom Lance (Voltron), College Student Keith (Voltron), College Student Lance (Voltron), Drinking to Cope, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Gay Keith (Voltron), Hurt Lance (Voltron), Insecure Lance (Voltron), Keith (Voltron) Angst, Keith (Voltron) has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Keith (Voltron) is Bad at Feelings, Keith/Lance (Voltron) Angst, Keith/Lance (Voltron) Smut, Lance (Voltron) Angst, Lance (Voltron) is a Mess, Langst, M/M, Near Death Experiences, POV Keith (Voltron), Pain, Past Character Death, Pining Keith (Voltron), Pining Lance (Voltron), Possibly Unrequited Love, Psychological Trauma, Smut, Top Keith (Voltron), Trauma, klance, klance angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-09-30
Packaged: 2019-10-13 07:13:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 19,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17483591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SasuSoul/pseuds/SasuSoul
Summary: Keith Kogane, the handsome and popular captain of the college football team, notorious for bringing a new guy home every other night. On the surface, it seemed as though he was a stuck-up brat that got whatever he wanted. Some wanted to be him, others wanted to be with him. But what is really hiding beneath that confident surface? Someone broken, traumatized, falling into bad habits with no idea of how he could get his life back on track. A boy that needs to be loved and cared for, but is terrified of forming connections because of the hurt it causes when they inevitably break.All Keith wants is to escape his past, but it keeps haunting him. So much so that he attempts to drown it with his various escapades and excessive drinking. It only works a fraction of the time.Enter Lance McClain, a soft, loving boy, who falls for Keith despite his terrible ways. Even though Keith keeps hurting him, he always comes back when he asks him to. Keith feels guilty about how he treats Lance, but cannot seem to free himself from his old habits. If he had the willpower, he would have told Lance to run away. Because Keith is on a sinking ship, and the last thing he wants is to take Lance down with him.Mirror of "New Rules"





	1. Selfish

**Author's Note:**

> God, I spent way too much time on this considering how many people will actually read it… Well well, I hope the people that do will end up enjoying it, even though “enjoy” is probably not the right word. 
> 
> If you are new here, this fic is a mirror of “New Rules” (Lance’s POV) which also has its first chapter out. Please check it out! They can be read in any order.  
> This fic is somewhat intense, so if you are sensitive, please check out the tags and read responsibly. 
> 
> I would recommend listening to the song that is cited throughout the chapter, “Selfish” by Julie Bergan either prior to, during or after reading. 
> 
> Without further ado, let’s jump into it!
> 
> (I hate the summary for this and will hopefully fix it up at some point. I had a really good one written, but it was a bit over the character limit unfortunately...)

_|_ _And if you're still bleeding, you're the lucky ones_

_'Cause most of our feelings, they are dead and they are gone_

_We're setting fire to our insides for fun_

_Collecting pictures from the flood that wrecked our home_

**_It was a flood that wrecked this home_ ** _|_

 

* * *

 

 

_It had been particularly snowy that night. Keith could not see far out of the car window, maybe a meter or two in front of him. This had to be the worst blizzard Altea had witnessed in years. Still, he had been very adamant about not wanting to miss his indoor football game in the next state over, trashing, screaming and pleading until his father had finally given in. He had even threatened to jump on a bus and go by himself, which did not go over well with either of his parents. They did not want Keith alone and possibly getting lost in this weather._

_In a final effort to coerce him out of going, Keith’s father had told him the game would probably be cancelled anyway. No one could be expected to drive across those distances in this weather. However, Keith remained persistent. There was no way he would let their rival team win on a walkover because he did not show up. He was the captain after all; this was his responsibility._

_Keith was also the one that talked his brother into coming along for the ride, looking at him with those pleading puppy-dog eyes he knew he could not resist._

_“Please, Shiro! It’s been so long since you’ve watched one of my games. I wanna show you how good I’ve become.”_

_“Alright.” His brother replied with a shrug of his shoulders before head-locking Keith and ruffling his hair. He fought desperately to get out of his grip, but ultimately had to yield. Shiro chuckled fondly at him as he let go._

_“I hope you’re better at getting rid of the other players than that.” Keith stuck his tongue out at him before turning around to sulk. Stupid brother. He had gotten better, maybe even as good as Shiro was at his age, and he was going to show him. Make him swallow his words. Make him proud of him._

_It was only a half-an-hour drive, but in this weather, Keith’s father expected it take at least twice that time. They needed to drive slowly and carefully to avoid any accidents, he said, but Keith just wanted to get there as fast as possible to play his game. Why could they not just follow the speed limit like always? It could not possibly be that dangerous, could it?_

_As he eyed the blizzard outside the car some twenty minutes later, Keith had to admit he was happy they chose to drive that slowly. He could feel the tires struggling to get proper grip underneath him, and see the slight worry in his mother’s eyes as she told his father that maybe they should stop, maybe they should go back. Maybe this was not the best idea. But his dad merely smiled at Krolia and ensured her that it would be okay. They were over halfway there now; it would be safer to keep going than to turn back. Besides, there was no gas station or motel coming for the next ten minutes in either direction, and he did not want them all to stay in the car freezing._

_Therefore, they drove a little further. A little faster too. Eager to finish the trip and get into the warm gym where the Altean Eagles were playing. No other cars were in sight. Most people were probably smarter than they were, and had realised taking off in this weather was a bad idea. Keith wondered if his teammates were even going to make it to the game. He could not bear losing to the Galra team again; the last time had been humiliating enough._

_“WATCH OUT!” A sudden scream from his mother, followed by the screeching of car tires as his dad desperately tried to brake and swing away from the point of impact. A moose, standing in the middle of the road and blocking it, causing his father to yank the steering wheel to the left as fast as he possibly could. They barely missed it by an inch, but the panicked braking had caused the car to spin out of control on the icy road. Now they were rushing toward the mountainside next to them with no way of slowing down or turning the car away. All Keith remembered was a sudden pulse of pressure making his body spasm, and then, everything went black._

_|_ _And you caused it_ _|_

_When his eyes fluttered open, the first thing that Keith did was yelp loudly. Something was hurting him immensely, but he was not sure what. Could not identify the source. His vision was foggy, and his pulse hard and heavy in his chest. He could feel the adrenaline pumping through his system. Where was he? What happened?_

_The moose, he reminded himself. A moose nearly hit the car. What happened then? He tried to remember but his mind was clouded and his head hurt. Were they still in the car? Was he alone, or with his family still? He panicked and started blindly screaming at the top of his lungs for his mother and father. The exertion caused his chest to feel tight and heavy, and he had a hard time making more noises. Something was pressing down on his ribs, blocking his access to air. It seemed yelling was ineffective. He got no response anyway._

_Blinking a few times, he tried to focus his gaze, slowly regaining his ability to see. Yes, he was still in the car. Why had no one answered him then? Maybe he had not been able to scream at all, and it was just in his mind. Surely, it had to be that, he did not dare think of the other alternatives._

_He looked down to see that nothing was blocking his thorax but the seatbelt, it had just been pressed so firm against his chest and neck that it felt like it was permanently compressed. The probability was high that some of this feeling also came from the impact, when his body had most likely been thrown forward and retained by the belt to prevent him from crashing into the seat in front of him. How much time had passed since then? How long had he been out cold?_

_The silence in the car was unnerving. Keith had heard that it was the silent patients that were treated first when the ambulance came to a scene, because they were most likely to be severely injured or… dead. Victims that screamed had the capacity to focus their energy on something. In addition, they were conscious. They might be in big pain, but they would survive._

_Not daring to turn his head to look at the others yet, Keith opted for assessing his own damages. He seemed to be capable of moving both his hands and feet slightly, but the pain was tremendous when he tried lifting his arms above shoulder height. He could feel something warm dripping from the top of his head. Blood? Lifting his hand, he brushed two fingers against his forehead and winced at the impact. Yes, blood. His pulse shifted in his throat, and he could feel it banging like a hammer to his skull. Was this dangerous? How much was he bleeding? Would he bleed out? Would anyone be able to find him here?_

_He screamed again, a guttural cry of fear that he could not contain. It felt as though all control had left his body. All he wanted was for someone, anyone, to come get him out of there. To wake him from this horrible nightmare._

_“Mom! Dad! Shiro!” Still no answers. He knew what that implied, but was terrified of moving his head to confirm it._

_When he lifted his head, Krolia’s body was what he saw first. Or rather, what was left of it. The entire front of the car was squashed, and his mother seemed to have taken the biggest impact, her limbs crushed against the Cliffside, splinters of glass covering her body. There was blood everywhere, some of it brown and dry, some of it still slowly leaking out of her. Keith wanted to cry out again, but no sound left his chest. Closing his eyes, he tried to desperately convince himself that this was a dream, a nightmare; this simply could not be. Nevertheless, the image of his mother’s mangled body was stuck to his retinas and impossible to shake. No matter how long he kept his eyes closed, it was all he could see._

_She was dead. His mother was dead; and judging from the lack of response, so was Shiro and his father. Keith kept uttering strangled sounds, not quite able to scream, not quite able to cry. His eyes welled up with tears, his face growing even more swollen than it was already. He let out a gasp of pain as the salt hit an open wound on his right cheek. It stung painfully, causing even more tears to form._

_A strangled cry of pain came from his right, and Keith whipped his head to the side so fast his insides went spinning. Shiro?_

_His brother looked a mess, his right arm crushed underneath a rock, and his face covered in cuts and bruises. Despite this, his eyes were slowly opening. He was alive._

_“Shiro!”-  Keith cried out, trying to get a response from his brother – “Shiro! Answer me!”_

_At first, the only indication that he had heard him was a faint twitching of his head. Then his eyes suddenly shot open, black, voided orbs staring into his soul. His brother looked possessed._

_|_ _And you caused it_ _|_

_“Look what you did to me, Keith! This is your fault!” His voice was calm and steady, but the tone was malicious, as if he wanted his brother to feel the pain he had caused him._

_“No! Shiro, please. I never meant to…” Tears were streaming down his face, but he could not feel them. His entire body had gone numb. What was the point in feeling anymore when all his loved ones were either dead or gone?_

_“If you had not convinced dad to take you to that stupid game, this would have never happened! Our parents are dead because of you!”_

_“Please stop! Please,” he begged, but the overwhelming guilt had already overcome him. Soon, Shiro’s voice was accompanied by his own inner demons, whispering the foulest of things in his ears._

_“This is all your fault, Keith.”_

_“You murdered your parents and mutilated your brother.”_

_“You should have died that night.”_

_“You are a monster. A villain. A terrible human.”_

_“You should have taken their place. You do not deserve to live. Remember that. Remember that for the rest of your life.”_

_“Please! Please make it stop!” He tried covering his ears, but the voices became louder and louder. He tried closing his eyes, but Shiro’s crushed arm, splinters of bone coming out of it, haunted his visions._

_**It’s all my fault. It’s all my fault.** _

__

_|_ _And you caused it_ _|_

* * *

 

 

As usual, he woke up screaming and drenched in sweat, taking some time to identify his surroundings. He was in his bed, naked, his duvet on the floor across the room; he had probably kicked it off in his sleep again. Damn it, over six years had passed since then, would he never get his peace?

Accepting that tonight was going to be yet another sleepless night; Keith sat up on the edge of bed and opened his sock drawer, pulling out the bottle of vodka he kept there. He took a big gulp before putting it back inside, taking out some socks and pair of boxer briefs while he was at it.

When the nights became like this, there was no point in even trying to sleep; he knew that all too well. Sighing, he eyed the clock on the wall – 23:30. This was going to be a long night, his fourth without resting his eyes; might as well brace himself for it. He headed to the bathroom to take an icy cold shower, hoping that would shock his mind enough to keep the memories at bay for a while.

He had only been fourteen that night, bratty and with an attitude his parents had always struggled with. However, he had been a bright kid, talented even. His coach had told him he had big opportunities to play college football, and he had good grades to boot. He had even been happy; he chuckled sarcastically at the memory of smiling every single day without faking it – there would probably never be a time when he could do that again.

Now Keith was far from the star student he had once been. It was a miracle that he was even allowed to be on the college football team considering his grades and his behaviour. He acted out a lot, got into fights, skipped classes; football practice was the only place where people knew Keith would meet on time and do a good job. His coach did not judge him for what happened outside of the court, and it was nice to have a place to run himself dry, pushing himself to the brink and becoming so exhausted that the memories that haunted him were kept at bay. Unfortunately, that only worked a fraction of the time.

When Keith was not at the court or at the gym, he spent his time utilizing what seemed to be his only other talent: his good looks. Boys and girls alike seemed to be swooning over his appearance, and if he put on his charm and a seductive smirk, he could get them to do almost anything he wanted. They would be smitten, while Keith never caught feelings of his own. He only did it for the physical pleasure, to be in control. He loved making other boys squirm under his gaze while he himself was unaffected by them. It was the only aspect of his life where he seemed to be in total control of both himself and others. Somehow, it helped him distract himself from the chaos that was his life.

Shiro was not a big fan of him bringing a new boy home several times a week, but lately he had not really been home a lot himself. He left Keith to his own devices, spending all his time over at that new lover of his: Adam. Keith found himself hating the brown-haired guy with the spectacles. Sometimes he wanted to punch Adam in the face for stealing his brother away from him. Shiro was the only family he had left, and after Adam came around; he had stopped having night terrors, and stopped keeping Keith company when he had his worst flashbacks. Sure, he was happy that Shiro did not grieve anymore, but it felt as though he was leaving him behind.

His brother kept telling him to go back into therapy, to find someone that would help him get over the tragic events of his past, as he had, but Keith was unable to let go. Shiro had been the anchor that kept him from drifting off at sea, and when he stopped showing up at the flat in favour of being with his lover, Keith had felt so alone. He had no one else he could trust, no one to open up to. There was no way he was going back into the system, where nobody understood him, and if felt as though he was blamed for the accident and branded as a “problem case”.

Therefore, he turned to drinking to numb himself, and mindless sex to keep his craving for physical affection satisfied. Making sure that he never held on to someone long enough to grow attached. Because if he had no one, there was no one to lose. If he had no one, it was impossible for him to be abandoned. It was easier to be alone when he convinced himself that it was his own choice. He did not need anyone else. Besides, he somehow managed to hurt every person he got close to; the world was better off without him.

Stepping out of the shower, he gave himself a once-over in the slightly blurred bathroom mirror. The circles under his eyes had gotten even more prominent over the past few days, making his face look somewhat hollow. Nothing that a little concealer could not fix. Plus, his body still looked fit as ever. Time to find some ass-hugging jeans and escape to the nearest nightclub. The more noise, and the more he had to drink, the more likely he was to forget.

 

* * *

 

The intrusive thoughts seemed impossible to stop that night. It felt as though he had tried everything. As soon as he entered The Blade of Marmora, he had ordered three tequila shots and glass of whisky, which he had all downed the moment they came to his table. He had danced until his legs wanted to give out, trying to lose himself on the dancefloor under the neon lights, let the thundering from the speakers overpower his mind and chase the images away. All strangers that came up to him had gotten what they asked for and more than that; Keith’s body rutting up against them, his lips attacking their necks and his hands roaming over their bodies, desperate for something to keep him grounded.

It did not work. His mind kept going back to that unsightly place, showing him images that were so twisted it felt as though they were from a different reality. Except he knew they were not. That mangled corpse splattered over the steering wheel was his father, that man writhing in pain, bones sticking out of his arm in separate directions, was his brother. Moreover, he was the cause of their pain, their misery. Because he forced them to drive in the storm, was so desperate to get to his football game that he had acted up against his parents and ingratiated himself with Shiro. He was a monster, a murderer. A selfish brat. It should have been he that died, not them. It should have been he that was left with irreparable damages.

Instead here he was, battling his guilt with beads of sweat and glow-sticks on the dancefloor next to some other horny college student. He knew he could probably get anyone he wanted to follow him home, but for some reason it all felt pointless tonight. As if he already knew that the visions would not go away, regardless of who he took with him.

_|_ _’Cause I was cold, left the club alone_ _|_

With an exasperated huff, he disentwined from the hands the stranger had wrapped around him, straightened his letterman jacket and pushed through the crowd towards the exit. When the cold wind outside hit him in the face, he felt a sigh of relief run through him. It had been excessively hot in there; too loud and clammy, but at the same time not loud enough. The alcohol running through his bloodstream warmed him somewhat, but he realized he had definitely underdressed. It was cold out. He fished his crimson beanie out of his jacket to cover up his ears, and shoved his hands into the pockets to keep his fingers from freezing; fingerless gloves were definitely more of a fashion statement than a functional item of clothing.

 

_|_ _And my playlist starting to get old, same old stupid songs (it pissed me off)_ _|_

 

His brain seemed to never stop feeding him projections from that night, repeating the same scenes over and over like a broken record. If he tried to skip something, his mind simply rewound the tape and brought him back to the beginning, forcing him to watch it all over again; having him relive the fear, the pain and the guilt a million times over.

Keith ran as fast as he could, as if hoping he would somehow be able to leave his demons behind. However, the voices only grew louder, and the images became clearer than before. Ultimately, he fell to his knees in the fresh snow, pulled at his hair and let out a silent scream in agony and frustration. He just wanted it to stop for one minute. All he wanted was a little peace of mind so that he could sleep, was that too much to ask?

Contorted illustrations of his memories raced through his mind, the ghosts of his parents coming back to life to haunt him. He revisited Shiro’s unconscious body at the hospital, his right side covered in scars with no arm in sight. All of a sudden, blood started pulsing out of the wounds and his brother trashed on the bed, clearly in immense pain. No, no, no. He did not want to see this anymore. He wanted it to stop. Please, god, make it stop.

Shakily brining himself back to his feet, he walked to the edge of the abandoned parking lot he had wounded up in, sitting himself down on some concrete stairs leading to an old gym that had closed down several years prior. At least no one else would see him here; few people bothered to wander too close to this place, especially at night.

He dug into his pockets and took up a cigarette, lighting it with shaking hands. Took a pull at it, inhaling slowly before blowing out the smoke in one fluid motion. He forced himself to take deep, steady breaths. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. His pulse slowed down somewhat, and his hands stopped shaking. The movie in his head was still playing, but now it was more blurry at the edges. At least this was a little bit better, even though he knew it was not enough for him to be able to go back to sleep. What was he supposed to do now?

 

_|_ _I could go home, but my head said: Don’t_ _|_

 

_Lance_ , his mind supplied. _Lance will help. Use Lance._ He shook his head at his own thoughts. Lance had to hate him by now considering the amount of times Keith had let him down. The cheerful Latino boy was very smitten with him, anyone could tell; Keith had him wrapped around his little finger. At least he had him up until recently, when he was caught making out with Lotor in the college parking lot. The look in Lance’s eyes was one of immense sadness and betrayal. He had gotten his hopes up again; Keith knew that. However, was it his fault? He had never agreed to them being exclusive. Surely, Lance must have known about how Keith usually did things.

Then again, Keith had not done things how he usually did them with Lance. Sure, he had flirted and slept with many of the guys at school, but he rarely did more than that. Initially, his plan for Lance was to get in his pants as well, add him to his list of conquests. Savour and remember the taste of that creamy, tan skin and those luscious lips. For one night, maybe a couple, and then their endeavours would end. Somewhere along the way, Lance had become more of a regular hook-up. Keith found him comforting; willing to drop everything he had if need be, and so he started using that. Using Lance as support on days that were grey, usually in the form of a hook-up, but sometimes also as company.

Soon, their meetings started with dinner or a movie before they ended up doing something physical; once they even went outside for a midnight stroll under the stars. Lance calmed him, and Keith took advantage of every opportunity he had to use Lance as a distraction from his otherwise miserable life. He became like necessary tool to him; he had not even thought about the possible consequences this would have for the other boy.

That day in the parking lot, that had all changed. The look in Lance’s eyes had given him so much guilt it was barely bearable. He had felt like such a horrible person. His inner voices was right; Keith was a monster. He ruined everything he touched. Moreover, Lance had helped him out so many times; he did not deserve this treatment.

He had meant to apologize, to somehow make it up to him. Tell him to walk away from him and stay away before he ruined him completely. However, things had not turned out the way Keith wanted the day he followed Lance out of their joint philosophy class.

 

* * *

 

 

This time, this time he had finally caught up to him. Lance had been avoiding him all day despite his numerous attempts to talk to him, and Keith understood him very well. Had it been him who had been let down by someone he cared about for the umpteenth time, he would probably have knocked the other person to the ground and bashed his teeth out. Lance had every right to be mad at him, furious even; but when he turned around, he only seemed sad and hurt. That made the lump in Keith’s throat grow even larger.

“Can we talk?” His voice sounded small, nervous. It was unusual for him. Keith did not like sounding this way, it made him feel weak. Yet Lance was one of the few people that he somehow ended up being vulnerable around.

“What do you want?” His voice was cold and emotionless, contradictory to his body language, which radiated a mix of sorrow and longing.

“Why are you avoiding me?” It was not as though he did not know the answer; Keith was just very bad at keeping these kinds of conversations. Apologizing was not exactly second nature to him. It felt very out of his element.

“You know damn well why.” It hurt him to hear Lance speak to him like that; hurt him to hear so clearly what a negative effect he had on him. He felt his shoulders shrinking in on himself, and lowered his gaze to glance mindlessly at his converse. It did not happen too often, Keith Kogane being at a loss for words; but in that moment he did not know what to say to make things right between them again. All he knew is that he wanted things back to the way they used to be. Not like this.

“Lance, I – ” he started, wanting to apologize but not knowing what to say or do to convey his emotions. Suddenly he felt a pair of hands snake around his waist. It had to be Lotor, that guy always had the worst timing.

What happened next was pure reflexes on his part, which surely said something about how twisted his personality was. His head tilted up and to the left, and within seconds, lips met his, giving him a light peck. It was his common greeting to Lotor, as they had fooled around a lot in the past weeks, but the second their lips pulled apart, he realized his mistake. He had come over to Lance to apologize for this kind of behaviour, to tell him that he deserved better than some idiot fuckboy like himself. Instead, it now seemed as though he had planned this out all along to humiliate him; as if Keith did not care about his feelings at all.

“… I’m sorry.” He knew he had blown it at this point. There was no way he could talk himself out of this. He deserved whatever Lance had coming for him.

“SHUT IT!” The sheer volume of his voice made Keith shake and take a step backwards. Never had he heard Lance be so loud, sound so angry. “You’re not fucking sorry, Keith! Just… Just stay the fuck away from me!” Then he turned on his heel and stormed out of the hall. Keith could hear him sobbing all the way to the exit.

He did not call out for him. What was the point, after all? He would not listen. Besides, maybe this was better. If Keith only managed to stay away from him now, then Lance could have a nice, carefree life without him. Lotor snickered behind him, and Keith stomped on his foot in frustration, making him yelp.

“Whatever was that about?”

“Stop feeding off of other people’s misery. It’s not cute.” He spat at him, before grabbing his hand and dragging him into the nearest restroom. Sex was the way he usually distracted himself from pain, and the stinging in his chest right now was unbearable.

 

* * *

 

 

He groaned at the memory presented to him; it still left him with a sinking feeling in his stomach. That was eleven days ago now, and Lance had not uttered a word to him since. Probably wanted nothing to do with him at all. Keith should keep his distance. However, the voice in his head was resolute: _Being with Lance will help. It will numb the pain. Use Lance._

Keith shook his head, putting his smoke out in the winter-snow. He really should not do that. It would be better for the both of them if he just went home. Home to the memories; home to the pain. The thought caused cold chills to travel down his spine. Four nights. It had been four nights since the last time he managed to get a good night’s sleep. Would he be able to handle going through those memories yet another time?

_I guess I could call Shiro._ Just the thought itself made him snicker sarcastically; he knew what exactly what his brother would tell him.

“You have to stop living in the past Keith. There’s nothing to gain by this meaningless self-torture,” that and “You should go see a professional, talk about it,” was his mandatory speech before he would focus in on his meditation techniques and how “patience yields focus”. Lately, these conversations always seemed to happen over the phone. His brother’s tone would sound exasperated, and he never offered to come and stay with him anymore. _Because his new boyfriend is more important to him than I am. Because he is tired of me being a whiny little kid._

 

_|_ _I just kept on scrolling through my phone…_ _|_

 

Moving on autopilot, Keith picked up his iPhone and started scrolling through his contacts. He kept telling himself that it was just a distraction, but deep down he knew what his intention was. D – Daibazaal Lotor… G – Griffin James… K – Kinkade Ryan… all guys who would jump at the chance of a hook-up with Keith Kogane, well-known quarterback and captain of the football team. All people he could not care less about hurting, because they were narcissistic assholes anyway. Yet he kept scrolling further down, was drawn to one name on the list more so than the others; M – McClain Lance. The one person he did not want to hurt, that always ended up being the one he hurt the most.

 

_|_ _Fuck it, I just called (It ain’t your fault)_ _|_

Pressing the call button, he lifted his phone to his ear and waited anxiously; his mind in a constant fight between _Pick up, pick up_ and _Please don’t answer_ ; because he knew that if he did, Lance would immediately be drawn back into Keith’s downward spiral. His classmate did not know how to say no to a request from Keith, and Keith did not know how to stop requesting. For him, it was both a blessing and a curse.

After nearly a minute, the call stopped because Lance failed to answer. He was probably sleeping. If Keith had been a decent human being, he would have stopped there, let Lance have his well-earned rest and roam the streets for the remainder of the night; but he wasn’t, so he dialled him again.

 

_|_ _Selfish, selfish, selfish_ _|_

_“Hello?”_

_This time it took less than three seconds for him to answer. Keith must have woken him up with the last call._

_“Hey there.” His voice was calm, smooth, and somewhat seductive; it amazed Keith how fast he managed to slip into his bad boy character._

_“It’s 2:30 AM, what the fuck do you want?” Pissed off, and rightfully so. No one should be calling him at this hour. However, Lance was easy for Keith to break; it would not take long before he crumbled like a cookie._

_“… I’m sorry; I didn’t really look at the time.” It helped that he did not have to fake his apologetic tone; he really was sorry about waking Lance up in the middle of the night. Mixing in a little bit of truth into his lies always made him sound more believable. Besides, Keith knew that Lance was more likely to do what he wanted if he seemed vulnerable. He was certain Lance McClain was the type of boy that took care of stray cats near the beach; feeding them and keeping them company. There was not a dark stain on his soul, he was far too kind and naïve._

_|_ _I know it's my problems_ _,_ _and I use you to solve them_ _|_

_“What’s wrong?” Keith could not help but smile through the ache in his chest; that was even easier than he had thought it would be._

_|_ _'Cause I'm selfish, selfish, selfish_ _|_

_“You’re mad at me… I want to make up.” Again, he was not lying; just saying things that he knew would smoothen Lance up, make him more pliant._

_“If you really wanted to make up, maybe you should have called at a better time. I’m not exactly in the best mood right now.” For those who did not know Lance, that comment might have been seen as a setback, but Keith could tell that he was a lot more calm and attentive than at the start of the conversation. This annoyed tone was a façade he put up to convince himself that he did not want to go along with whatever Keith was about to offer. He had heard it several times before; it never seemed to work._

_“I’m sorry that I woke you up… I really cannot sleep. It’s the insomnia, you know…”_

_|_ _I know it's my issues, when I cry, you're my tissue_ _|_

Lance seemed hesitant on the other end, clearly affected by his words, sympathetic as always. He was the only one but his brother that Keith had talked to about his more deep-seated issues. Well, he and that therapist Shiro forced him to go to for a year. The one with the golden locks and shrill, empty voice that offered him prescription medication five minutes into their first session. Thanks to her, he had been drugged down beyond recognition for the next nine months. Apart from the accident, realizing that was probably the most traumatic event of his life. Since then, he had vowed to himself that he would always be in full control of his decisions. He would make the calls, nobody else.

It was always his decision that counted the most on the football field, his voice that everyone listened to in a time of crisis. Whenever he hooked up with someone, it was always on his own terms, not theirs. However, the night he told Lance about the accident, it had been everything but intentional, a spur of the moment decision that would change the course of their relation forever. Even now, he was still not sure if he had made the right choice; but at least it had given him some unexpected leverage.

“Is there any way I can convince you to come outside with me? I’ll buy you a milkshake. Vanilla is your favourite, right?” He felt horrible about throwing in a bribe to boot, but he really needed this distraction. The images from that night had started slowly seeping back in, and it felt as if his head would explode at any minute.

 

_|_ _'Cause I'm selfish, selfish_ _|_

 

_Vanilla_. It surprised him that he had remembered Lance’s favourite flavour of milkshake, and that he was so certain that he had not mixed him up with anyone else. The last time he took him to McDonalds, he had downed two of them, had some residual cream left on his upper lip when he smiled; it was adorable. Keith felt somewhat fond thinking about it, but quickly shrugged it off. Of course, Lance was cute, that was why he wanted to bang him in the first place.

“You better get me some fries with that shake…” The tone was light, clearly meant to be slightly amused, but had a hint of defeat to it. Lance was clearly disappointed with himself for making these terrible life-decisions. Well, he was not the only one. The feeling of guilt crept up under Keith’s skin, slowly suckling at him like a leech.

 

_|_ _'Cause I'm selfish, selfish_ _|_

 

“As many as you want. Meet me in ten?”

“Give me twenty. I have to get some clothes on.” He was an abominable person.

 

_|_ _Selfish, selfish_ _|_

_|_ _'Cause I'm selfish, selfish_ _|_

 

* * *

 

The diner was only a ten-minute walk away from his current location; Keith was surprised he did not think about going there to warm up earlier. Probably the alcohol clouding his mind. McDonald’s was not his first choice when it came to fast food, but this neighbourhood did not really have much to offer. Besides, no other franchise nearby were open 24/7, and Keith was not known to visit under normal working hours.

A gigantic M lit up the nearby streets in a horrendous neon yellow, blinking every few seconds; it had probably gone years since its last battery change. The walls were made of old red bricks, and the roof looked like it needed a proper reparation before water started dripping through the very visible cracks in the tiles; this place was something out of a horror film. Still, it had food, a decent staff that did not bother him, and a warm interior; that was more than enough for him. Keith was not known for being picky.

Lance arrived a few minutes earlier than he said he would, as per usual. No jacket on, covered in snow from head to toe. Keith had to snicker a little. Classic Lance, never managing to dress up properly. It was nice to see him again, and Keith had to admit he had missed him more than he thought he would. His presence was like a ray of sunlight, chasing the dark shadows of his mind away. There was something about that smile that could melt even the coldest of hearts, and Keith’s was no exception.

He gave him a soft smile and pulled him in for a hug. Within seconds, he felt hands move up to tug at his hair, one of Lance’s known tactics to ground himself. Keith hummed contently. It seemed his classmate had lost his inner struggle and caved in to his demons. Now there was only a matter of time before he would get what he so desperately craved.

 

_|_ _Selfish, selfish, selfish_ _|_

“God, you’re freezing. Why can’t you ever dress properly?” Keith commented, and booped their noses fondly before leaning in for a kiss. Lance responded immediately, his lips soft and pliant against Keith’s chapped ones. He could taste the chapstick on them as he licked his upper lip with his tongue. Strawberry, cute.

He made sure to keep the kiss open and inviting, leaving behind no other intentions than to greet him and warm him up. Keith knew patience was key with Lance, especially when he felt insecure and wary of the situation. The ravishing kisses could wait; he would get more than enough of them later.

Moving his hands up Lance’s neck toward his chin, he stopped the kiss in order to cradle his face in his hands, caressing his cheeks. The simple gesture made the Cuban turn bright pink, his gaze averting Keith’s for a quick second before leaning in to give him a short peck on the lips. The cold touch made him shiver involuntarily.

“Let’s go inside before you turn into an icicle.” Lance nodded; his eyes dazed and cheeks rosy red. He looked spellbound. Keith felt something swell in his chest; he was quite proud of being able to affect him to this extent.

Grabbing his hand, Keith dragged Lance inside the warmth of the diner, ordering three large fries and a milkshake for them. He was not particularly fond of sweets, but could use something to nibble on while Lance engulfed his creamy vanilla treat.

Talking, or rather munching on fries while listening to Lance ramble, worked as a decent distraction for a while. Keith got caught up in his stories about weekend gatherings with his friends, how he absolutely hated the snow, and even gave some pointers as to what he thought about Professor Smith’s new bowl-cut; they both agreed it was hideous. There was seemingly no tension or animosity coming from Lance; he looked like he was enjoying himself. Keith did not expect to be forgiven quite that easily. That was why the sudden change in mood did not surprise him. However, the question did.

“I… Are you still with him?” With him? With who? Keith was never really with anyone in that sense of the word. He just fooled around, took his pick on whoever he wanted to stay with that night. It was never anything serious. Lance could not possibly think…?

That was when it dawned on him… Lotor. The reason Lance had been so upset was not necessarily that Keith had been with someone else; that happened from time to time, he was fairly used to it. It was because of what Lance thought he and Keith had developed over the past weeks, and because it all turned out to be a lie.

Moreover, in the absence of Lance, Lotor had become Keith’s go-to hook-up. He was easy to convince, always up for anything. The two of them had probably spent a lot of time together in school over the past week or so. Maybe it did look like something serious. Not only had Lance seemingly lost Keith, but he had moved on to someone else. That must have been a tough blow to take.

Keith felt his insides shift. This boy was in love with him, he was more than aware of that. There was no other explanation for him to tolerate the treatment he was given. Keith had used him up and tossed him aside time and time again, yet he always came back. And here he was, about to let him do it all over again. He suddenly felt like vomiting.

“Lotor? He… I… It’s complicated.” That was the first full on lie he had told that evening.

It was not complicated. Not at all. They had sex together, and sometimes Keith would take advantage of the opportunity to go to his mansion to get some good food and play video games. Lotor was an ass, a stuck-up rich guy that thought he deserved to be treated like royalty. Nevertheless, he looked good, he was good in bed; and as mentioned, Keith was not picky.

However, he could not tell Lance that. As much as he wanted him to know that guy meant nothing to him, he needed him to think that there had been something there. That something enticed him but now he was going back to his old habits. Back to Lance. Needed Lance to think that he had chosen him over the other man, yet not make him think that the two of them could ever be anything.

“I am sorry for hurting you. I really am. But I never told you it was going to be us. I am not like that… This is… difficult for me.” He took his hands in his and entwined their fingers on the worn-down dining table, boring his eyes into him to force sapphire to meet amethyst.

 

_|_ _I know it’s my problems, and I use you to solve them_ _|_

“I… I care about you.” Not a complete lie, but he probably sounded more sincere than he was, faking the trembling in his voice and the nervous gestures. With how much his body was shaking from anxiety and lack of sleep, it was not too hard to make his distress look realistic. He prayed that it would work.

He needed Lance to get his hopes up, but not so high that letting him down would mean that never came back. It was a delicate scale to balance, and a gruesome tactic to use, but he was desperate.

 

_|_ _’Cause I’m selfish, selfish, selfish_ _|_

 

“I care about you too… A lot.” Keith gave his hand an affirmative squeeze and shot him an innocent smile, but inside he was shaking. _You shouldn’t. I’m not a good guy. I will only end up hurting you._

“The insomnia… Do you want to talk about it?” Always so compassionate, so caring; he did not deserve this kindness directed towards him. He was toxic, dangerous. A selfish brat that pushed his own problems onto others because he could not deal with them himself. Forget Lotor, Keith himself was the ultimate scum of a person, was he not? Yet, the guilt was not enough to make him stop. He needed to consign to oblivion, to stop the records in his mind from repeating over and over again. What else was a guy to do?

 

_|_ _I know it’s my issues, when I cry, you’re my tissue_ _|_

“No.” Keith made sure his voice was steady and determined, leaving no room for discussion. “I want to forget.”

Leaning over the table, he put all his skill and persuasion into his next action, dragging Lance in by the collar of his shirt and kissing the living daylights out of him. Making sure their lips moved in tandem, but with his directing the pace, the roughness. Trying his best to light a fire in the other boy, letting him feel all of Keith’s desires, his lust, and his desperation.

“Please,” he begged as he pulled back. Lance merely nodded, following suit when Keith rose from his chair to leave. He did not know if he should feel relieved or feel horrified with himself.

 

_|_ _’Cause I’m selfish, selfish_ _|_

* * *

 

 

The next few minutes went by in haze, and frankly, Keith could not remember much of them besides Lance’s Cuba Gold perfume, the tenderness of his hands when they explored his body, and the messy smacking noises that came from their lips crashing against one another with little precision and excessive lust.

He could not recall who opened the door; only that it did not need to be unlocked, and he had no idea how his varsity jacket and his beanie ended up on the other side of the room. All he could feel was the overpowering, overwhelming sensation of Lance burning through his body like a fire. Just what he needed to let go and relieve the tension in his body. Finally, he managed to relax. It was heavenly.

“Let’s move this upstairs,” He urged, pulling at Lance’s hoodie, “Shiro won’t be back any time soon, it will be fine.” The mention of his neglecting brother made his blood boil, but he quickly discarded the thought by going back in to claim Lance’s lips. This was not the time. He was doing this to immerse himself completely, so that he could let this slip from memory, if only for a little while.

Moving his hands under Lance’s hoodie and shirt to feel bare skin, Keith guided him blindly to his bedroom. It helped that Lance was already familiar with the way; none of them took a wrong turn or missed a step of the stairs. A sudden tug to his hair made Keith let out a raw, guttural growl; pushing his tongue into Lance’s mouth to taste all of him once more. There was still a faint hint of strawberry chapstick, but mostly it tasted of vanilla cream and fresh saliva. It was utterly enticing.

It did not take long before they collapsed on his bed, Keith on top and Lance writhing beneath him. He left his lips in favour of sucking and nibbling at his neck, earning some sweet moans and two lustful sapphire orbs eyeing him as if he was a Michelin star dish. Tugging at Lance’s hoodie and shirt to get the message across, he started moving them up and over his head. As always, Lance was more than happy to help remove the garment and discard it on the bedroom floor.

“Good boy,” he whispered softly, and Lance basked in the praise.

This was only the first in a long row of apparel to hit the ground beneath them, and soon Keith could feel all of Lance’s skin on his. It was incredibly freeing when they both had nothing to hide behind. He could see the disappointment in Lance’s eyes when he removed his fingerless gloves, but it was soon replaced by fervour and heat when he once again touched every inch of his body, giving the Latino his full attention.

They spent the next few minutes grinding against each other, revelling in the feeling of their bare cocks touching. The kissing became even more urgent, and Lance started leaving little bites and marks on Keith’s neck and collarbones, earning him a few gasps and quiet groans of pleasure. Lance really worked wonders with his lips.

While Keith was mostly quiet, Lance was deliciously loud in bed. Keith thrived on his moans and screams, his utmost pleasure being to see him broken and begging for more. He looked so beautiful when he was dishevelled and lost in pleasure; as if his world was Keith and Keith only. Getting him to that point was the ultimate price; it felt like a victory every time. Keith knew that was what made Lance come back for more.

Pouring lube on his fingers, Keith spread his classmate’s legs and slowly circled his hole. He inserted his first finger with precision and accuracy, making Lance scream when he hit his prostate on the first thrust. For a second, it occurred to him how well he needed to know Lance’s body to be able to pull that off; they really had been through a lot over the past few months.

He added a second finger, and then a third, making sure to hit that spot dead on every time he thrusted inside, barely brushing against it to leave Lance aching for more.

Lance definitely looked his best with his back arched and something up his ass; Keith was certain. Caramel skin glistening with sweat, blue eyes boring deep into his, the hoarse voice repeating _Keith, Keith, Keith_ ; he was truly a sight to behold. Keith had to lick his lips while looking down at him; this was a course he wanted to devour.

“On your hands and knees. That’s it. You look so ready for me.” Lance on all fours, his pink hole opening like a rosebud; Keith was in heaven right now. This was exactly what he needed to get his mind to turn off and his senses to rule him. The slight wiggle of his ass told him Lance was ready to move on, so he wasted no time, pressing in all the way to the hilt in one smooth motion.

Keith was not known for taking it slow, his partners all knew what to expect from him, and Lance did not seem to be against the rough pace he was setting. Quite the contrary, he seemed to love it; his eyes swelling up with tears, his body shaking, and continuous chants of _Keith, Keith, Keith_ bouncing off the walls in the room.

“Keith, please,” and “Keith, more,” combined with high-pitched moans that sang to his ears. It urged him to thrust even faster, ramming into Lance’s prostate repeatedly, desperate to hear him scream again.

A couple more rough thrusts was all Lance needed to come undone, cum spraying over both his abdomen and the bedsheets. The sight of his orgasm combined with the clenching of his ass sent Keith over the edge soon after, his cum spilling into Lance’s ass as he groaned and panted, collapsing on top of him.

With a sudden need for closeness, Keith pulled the younger boy closer to him, wrapping him up in his arms and nuzzling his head in the crook of his neck. This was an unusual gesture for him, as he normally would ask Lance to leave immediately; but tonight he needed the comfort, and he assumed Lance would not mind.

They stayed in that position for a while, the only sound being their shallow breaths and the steady beating of their hearts. Now and again, Lance would lean back against him in a futile attempt to inch closer, even though they were skin to skin. Keith left gentle kisses on the nape of his neck, and he was awarded with satisfied little hums that warmed his insides. However, he knew that this could not last. Now that he had managed to level his mind, he should make Lance leave again before he could draw any wrongful conclusions. This encounter did not mean anything, after all.

 

_|_ _’Cause I’m selfish, selfish_ _|_

 

When he rose from bed, he could feel those blue eyes on him, filling him with guilt, sadness and regret. Their moment was over now, broken. All that was left was a memory that would soon grow faint. Suddenly it felt as if they were nothing but strangers, threading lightly to avoid upsetting the other too much as they went through their motions.

 Keith pulled his own shirt over his head; tossing Lance his to signal that it was time to leave. He caught it in mid-air, but stopped in his tracks for a few seconds, just looking at it with an expression that was hard to read even for Keith. All he knew was that the other boy had become even more damaged by him after this night. He would have to live with that on his conscience. Had it really been worth it?

 

_|_ _Selfish, selfish_ _|_

 

* * *

 

 

As he watched Lance put on his sneakers, another pang of guilt flashed through him. _It is freezing cold out, and I let him walk home alone in the middle of the night. I am such a terrible person._ He noticed his varsity jacket on the floor by his feet, and quickly bent down to pick it up as Lance tied his shoelaces. _At least this would keep him warm._

“You cannot head back out like that, dude. It’s freezing cold out there.” The confusion in Lance’s eyes weighed heavy on his heart. He very clearly did not understand Keith’s sudden changes in mood and behaviour, and no one could blame him for that. One moment he was warm and inviting, the next cold and emotionless; even Keith did not quite know what was going on in his mind.

“Put it on. I don’t want you to get sick or anything.” He mumbled, practically shoving the jacket into his hands, feeling his face heat up for no apparent reason. Lance beamed up at him, a faint pink dusting his cheeks.

“Thank you. I really appreciate it.” His first reaction was to smile, but then he face-palmed internally. Damn it, Lance wasn’t supposed to be flattered; it was just a friendly gesture. Keith knew he had to lower his expectations again, pull him back to reality. He could not have Lance walking around believing he had gone soft; and he could not have everyone else thinking he had something steady going on with the Cuban boy. It would ruin everything he had built up around himself, the mysterious aura, the unapproachable barrier. He had to break him again, one last time for the night. Let him down without dealing the final blow. This was not the first time that night he wished that Lance McClain had the willpower to stay away from him. Keith lived for himself only, in a world where his own thoughts were his predators. It was survival of the fittest, and this was how he had learned to cope. He knew no other way.

 

_|_ _’Cause I’m selfish, selfish_ _|_

 

“Just, maybe don’t use it around school and stuff. Keep it in a bag before you return it or something…” He scratched the back of his head, trying to pull off a nonchalant look, but his heart was beating a thousand times per minute.

“Sure… Whatever you say.” The tone of his voice combined with how he cast his eyes downwards told Keith that he had achieved his objective. Part of him hoped that it had not broken him completely, leaving him with a chance of coming back sometime, but another part of him wanted so desperately for Lance to break free of this endless spiral of torturous pain. He deserved so much better than what Keith gave him, much better than what Keith took from him every time they interacted.

 Lance left without uttering another word, turned on his heel, walking out the door and slamming it hard for emphasis.

“Lance…” it was a quiet call, almost like a whisper. Not really meant to stop him, because Keith could not have him stay, but still uttered like some desperate plea. _I’m sorry._

Less than two minutes later, Keith collapsed on his bed, thoroughly exhausted. The distraction had helped him, but at what cost? He did not have time to ponder it before he drifted off into a dark, dreamless sleep. Recovery was of the essence, the guilt could wait until morning.


	2. Selfish vol. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He desperately wished he could scrub his mouth with all the soaps in the world until his gums became red and numb. He felt dirty. Stained and scarred by the touch of another. Balling his fists and opening them again, he desperately tried to remain in contact with his body. He was hyper-aware of every miniscule movement around him. Startled by the faintest of sounds. Involuntary spasms kept rolling through him as if he had a seizure. The trembling was uncontrollable, leaving him helpless until the wave ended and he could relax for a few minutes. Then, once he finally convinced himself it was over, another wave began. 
> 
> He stubbornly pressed his tears back, digging his nails into his arms to stop the intense pain in his chest. No way he was crying. Not here. Keith was not that weak, would not allow people to see him that vulnerable. Besides, he deserved it. He had asked for it, had he not? With the way he behaved, it was bound to happen eventually. How could it be a violation if he normally wanted it? How could he be mad at people for leaving him when he knew deep down that he had been treating them like shit?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, this took me forever to finish. I'm so sorry... I hope that some of you are still around to read this after all this time. 
> 
> Writing this series has been more challenging than I thought, and I never seemed to be happy with how the plot was going or how to balance out the angst the way I wanted to. I've second-guessed the ending so many times, but I feel like I'm finally on the right track. It's not everything that I wanted it to be, but I'm proud of it, and it's been a good learning experience for future works. With how I've mapped out everything now, the final part is probably gonna be long af, so don't expect me to get around to it anytime soon. Also, for this part I will simply have to post both the chapters at the same time, since the story is ending. So yeah, that might take a while *sweats* 
> 
> Enjoy I guess!

_|_ _And if you're still breathing, you're the lucky ones_  
'Cause most of us are heaving through corrupted lungs  
Setting fire to our insides for fun  
Collecting names of the lovers that went wrong  
The lovers that went wrong _|_

* * *

 

Sunday evening, 8 PM. A typical time to be inside and have dinner with your family, watch a movie on Netflix, or possibly catch up on homework before the week starts all over again. The streets were far from crowded, and the only other passengers on the bus were an old lady with a giant cane and a shabby looking man in his thirties who desperately needed a shower.

Keith could smell him from five rows back, the stench of layers upon layers of sweat, grease and mud. Homeless. Without a doubt. He could not help but feel they had something in common that night. Both felt stained and filthy, both had nowhere to go tonight.

How much time had passed since he boarded this bus? One hour? Two? They had moved around the block at least three times, and the driver eyed him with a look of disgust and pure annoyance. **Get off my bus** , it said. **What’s wrong with you, freak?**

Moving anywhere felt like too much of a struggle now, he was not sure if he would ever be able to get up again. All Keith wanted was to sink into the bus seat and disappear from the face of the Earth. It would be easier to just end it. Join his parents in whatever waited for him in the next life. Not that Keith really believed in afterlife, but even an eternity trapped six feet under seemed better than what he was currently experiencing.

He desperately wished he could scrub his mouth with all the soaps in the world until his gums became red and numb. He felt dirty. Stained and scarred by the touch of another. Balling his fists and opening them again, he desperately tried to remain in contact with his body. He was hyper-aware of every miniscule movement around him. Startled by the faintest of sounds. Involuntary spasms kept rolling through him as if he had a seizure. The trembling was uncontrollable, leaving him helpless until the wave ended and he could relax for a few minutes. Then, once he finally convinced himself it was over, another wave began.

He stubbornly pressed his tears back, digging his nails into his arms to stop the intense pain in his chest. No way he was crying. Not here. Keith was not that weak, would not allow people to see him that vulnerable. Besides, he deserved it. He had asked for it, had he not? With the way he behaved, it was bound to happen eventually. How could it be a violation if he normally wanted it? How could he be mad at people for leaving him when he knew deep down that he had treated them like shit?

 

* * *

 

 

_Practice had been extra intensive that day, and Keith had punished himself for his excessive drinking by running on the mill for an hour after the team had left. He relished in the feeling of sweat running down his torso, muscles tensing and relaxing beneath him, pushing his body to his limits. It was nice to know that it was good for something, his body. That it was not just a meaningless vessel. His legs could run, his arms could throw a ball across the football court with no trouble. The one talent he had. He would be a fool to waste it._

_The burning in his legs had become intense enough that he figured he would collapse any second, and his breathing was erratic. He struggled pulling enough air into his lungs, feeling the lactic acid filling his muscles. The familiar taste of iron appeared his mouth. Probably a good time to stop, before he overexerted himself and spilled his insides all over the floor._

_Pushing the red button, Keith collapsed over the treadmill with a sigh of exertion. Luckily, no one was around to see him like this. He preferred Sunday afternoons specifically for that reason. He could take it all out. Not that he did not do that for practice, but this was another level. Coach did not allow him to push himself until he nearly fainted. It was not healthy. When he was alone however, Keith would run until it felt like he couldn’t, and then some more._

_Finally regaining the ability to stand, Keith leaned over and grabbed his towel, wiping his face and armpits. Gulping down an enormous amount of water, he used the final drops to rinse his face, letting it drip from his forehead down his chest. Sweet relief._

_A few minutes later, Keith was heading around the corner to the bus stop, his water bottle in one hand and bag in the other. He was just about to take another sip when his phone vibrated. Pulling it out of his back pocket, he groaned as he watched the display light up._

_**Shiro *slide to answer*** _

_“What do you want?”_

_“That’s not a nice way to greet your brother.” He pictured Shiro shaking his head on the other end._

_“It is when you only call when you want something.”  Keith did not care that his tone was sour. Shiro deserved it. He had not heard from him in weeks. Whenever he called him, he reached voicemail. His brother had even stopped paying his share of the rent, leaving Keith to starve for the past week and a half; the little money he had left went to feeding his addiction. Shiro knew exactly what Keith was going through, yet it seemed he had no sympathy whatsoever._

_By now he was just disappointed that Keith had not moved past it the way he had, not understanding how Keith lived with an overwhelming guilt Shiro had never had to feel. A guilt that bloomed back up every time he heard his brother’s voice or saw him struggle with his prosthetic arm. A guilt that nearly killed him when he looked himself in the mirror and saw the scar on his face, remembering Shiro’s matching one. He had ruined his parents, ruined Shiro, and now he was ruining himself. It seemed that was everything he would ever be capable of doing._

_“So… What do you want?” he spat into the phone, hearing Shiro recoil slightly on the other end. Good._

_“I’m moving out.” Shiro stated firmly, and Keith felt his head spin and his vision whiten. He did not manage to catch everything Shiro said next, something about Adam and him moving closer to his family, that he was sorry. But Shiro did not sound sorry, only hollow and emotionless, like he had given up on Keith years ago and this was his final hurdle to jump before he would be rid of him forever._

_“But… You… You can’t… You know I can’t afford to…” Panic. Wide-eyed, stomach-dropping, cold-sweating panic. That was what welled up inside of him that very second. Keith fell to his knees on the sidewalk; face only centimetres from brushing against the gravel beneath him.  His body was cement, heavy and unyielding, yet his hands were trembling from fear. He could hear Shiro’s voice faintly calling to him from his phone, now deserted on the ground next to him, but he did not pick it up. Did not want to hear his voice ever again._

_“Go to hell!” he breathed, before he pressed the red button and let his face sink into the ground, grimacing when a piece of gravel entered his mouth. **Great**. _

* * *

 

_|_ _And you caused it_ _|_

_How he had ended up on Lotor’s doorstep was a mystery even to Keith himself, but his mind had slipped into survival mode, and this seemed like the only viable option. None of his other acquaintances had even a snippet of the wealth the Daibazaal family was basking in, and Keith knew the school system would not offer him a penny more to his scholarship given his troublesome behaviour. He desperately needed a place to stay, so he did what he could, hoping he would not have to beg excessively to get sympathy. Lotor did not normally seem to have much trouble parting with his money. After all, he had a lot more where it came from._

_The gates opened on the second ring, followed by a voice over the intercom that told him to come in. Keith pulled down the door handle and entered the excessively endowed hallway, slipping off his shoes and dropping his bag by the coat racks. The bright light from the chandelier nearly blinded him as he looked up to see if he could spot Lotor in the stairway to the second floor, but he was nowhere to be seen, probably busy playing games on his massive flat screen TV. Keith huffed. Some people had it much easier than others._

_He had been to the Daibazaal family mansion enough times that he had stopped being impressed by its imprudent display of riches, from the marble-covered stairway to the golden chandeliers and the massive busts of Lotor’s parents in the reception hall. The walls all around him were covered in pictures of Lotor’s relatives, all with their noses upturned with impertinence and disgust, as if the peasants of the world weren’t worthy of their greatness. Guess he knew where Lotor had gotten his ego._

_Dishevelled, tired and still sweaty from the gym, Keith definitely did not feel a sense of belonging as he climbed the stairs and headed for Lotor’s private living room, praising himself lucky that his parents did not seem to be home. He doubted Lotor would have let him in if they were, Keith probably would not strike them as appropriate company._

_“Hi” Keith mumbled as he entered, unceremoniously dropping himself on the couch next to Lotor. He only received an acknowledging nod; Lotor was too busy killing off enemies in his first person shooter to pay him any mind._

_They sat there in awkward silence for a while, Lotor playing his game and Keith gathering his courage. What he was about to do felt so self-demeaning he would much rather drop dead, but what other choice did he have?_

_|_ _And you caused it_ _|_

 

_“My brother is moving out,” he said, trying to sound as unbothered and nonchalant as possible. Still, he could see the slight upward lilt of Lotor’s lips, feel the way his own voice betrayed him, made him sound vulnerable._

_“Bummer.” Lotor replied, still not taking his eyes off his game. Of course, he did not care even the slightest about Keith’s wellbeing. No one did. He inhaled shakily. This was it, sink or swim._

_“Yeah… Means I won’t be able to pay my rent this month. I need to find a way to get by until I can get a job…” Truth was the chances of that were low, as Keith’s resume and work experience was basically non-existent. Besides, all his free time went into football practice, and everyone knew coach Kolivan did not let his students skip training for part-time jobs. If Keith was to continue his education, he needed support beyond what his scholarship could offer; Lotor would get that if he read between the lines._

_Lotor put down the controller slowly and nodded at Keith, finally paying attention to him. His eyes narrowed slightly as he smirked up at him knowingly, making Keith feel increasingly uncomfortable. There was no going back now; he was completely at Lotor’s mercy._

_“And you want me to help you.” It was more of a statement than a question. A knowing statement, filled with a promise of a torturous future. Keith nodded, feeling his Adam’s apple bob involuntarily as Lotor’s eyes went dark._

_“Services are not for free, Keith. I need to know what you can offer in return.” Keith’s eyes flickered to the ground, his teeth dragging across his bottom lip, threatening to pierce it._

_“I don’t really have anything...,” he said, feeling how weak and feeble his voice sounded. “I was hoping you would…”_

_“Just give it to you?” Lotor finished for him, chuckling under his breath. “I refuse to believe you’re that foolish.” Then his eyes met Keith’s, hungry and dangerous, searching him for any signs of dishonesty, pleased when he only found fear and hesitance. “Come on; show me what a slut like you has to offer.”_

_Keith shook his head. Not like this. He was the one who was supposed to be in charge, in control. He could not afford to be turned into someone’s pet._

_“I’ll carry your bag to class every day. Do your chores, cook for you. I can…” He rambled desperately, but Lotor silenced him with a finger, eyes still carrying that malicious glint._

_“We both know there are much better ways to use you than that.” Keith gulped as he felt a hand tangle into his hair._

_“At least let me take a shower first, I stink…” He tried desperately, but Lotor shook his head._

_“No. I want you like this. Filthy, desperate. Show me how badly you need it.”_

_Reluctant but defeated, Keith sank to knees in front of Lotor, giving up what little self-worth he had left. He tried reaching for his pants, but Lotor swatted his hands away, undoing the belt buckle himself. Instead of pulling them down, he yanked Keith’s head back by his hair, forcing him to make eye contact again._

_“Not so fast. I’m the one in charge here. Tonight, you worship me. Now kneel.” Gritting his teeth, Keith bowed his head, hearing Lotor chuckle with amusement above him. He lifted his feet and pressed an expensive leather slipper to Keith’s mouth. “Kiss them like you mean it.”_

_Keith’s body shuddered, but he obeyed, dragging his lips along the edge of Lotor’s slipper, tasting the dust and hair that had gathered beneath the sole. He retched involuntarily, trying his best to keep his eyes to the ground and stop himself from punching Lotor in the gut. Never before had he felt so small and degraded._

_“Are you enjoying yourself?” Lotor hummed from above him, and Keith nodded begrudgingly, licking along the underside of Lotor’s sole. “Then prove it.” He demanded, “Remove them both and lick off my sweat like a good servant.”_

_He kept at it for what felt like hours, kissing and nipping at Lotor’s toes, licking the underside of his foot from heel to front, the salty taste of sweat and dirt clinging to his mouth. Occasionally, Lotor would pull him by the hair or pinch his nipples through his shirt, making him hiss in a mix of pain and unwanted pleasure. He called him unspeakable things, humiliating things. Names Keith wanted to block out but felt etch into his skin like acid. He knew deep down this was yet another memory he would never be able to erase._

_Finally, Lotor allowed him to sit up, and soon Keith felt the familiar weight of a cock against his tongue. Only this time it was neither pleasant nor welcoming, and all he wanted was to stand up and run away as fast as he could._

_Lotor pushed his cock down Keith’s throat without warning, and he felt tears pressing behind his eyes as it kept hitting the back of it, involuntarily activating his gag reflex. The pace was fast and brutal, and Lotor forced Keith to look him in the eyes as he fucked him, smirking as he pressed a foot to his crotch and felt Keith grow hard against his will. Revelling in the feeling of power and control._

_“Not so tough now, huh, football captain? Always walking around like you’re the talk of the town, wrapping everyone around your finger. Yet you’ve always been on the edge of a breakdown. I’ve been wanting to tip you over for so long, watch you spiral out of control. The toughest ones are always the ones who look best when defeated. So delicious. Who knew you could be this pliant?”_

_He came twice. Once down Keith’s throat, then again across his face a few minutes later. Keith tried to stand up, but he would not let him. Ordered him to clean up his mess like a good servant. Keith obeyed, trembling slightly as he licked along the sides of Lotor’s balls and cock, lapping up every drop of cum he could find._

_Five minutes later, he stood in the hallway with a cheque in hand, its value equal to one month’s rent, half dried cum still stuck to his face. Lotor tossed him a clean towel, and he wiped it away slowly, disgusted by the way some of it still seemed to linger on his skin, an unwanted reminder of their fateful encounter._

_Lotor had only laughed when Keith asked him to take a shower, telling him a filthy slut like him was supposed to stink like one. Then he had ushered him down the stairs before he went to get the cheque, claiming his parents would be home any minute. Now he was leaning closer, whispering a final warning into Keith’s ear as he was about to leave._

_“You know what will happen if you tell anyone about this, don’t you?” Keith nodded. “Good. Consider this a first time favour. Next time you will have to really work for it.”_

_|_ _**And you caused it** _ _|_

* * *

 

“Hey kid! This isn’t a carousel you know! Now get off this buss before I make you!” The driver yelled, making the elderly woman in front jump in surprise. Keith slowly lifted himself from the seat, his legs barely able to carry him, dragging his feet along the floor as he made his way to the exit. He didn’t look up to acknowledge the bus driver, who kept yelling at him to move faster, cursing about him stopping traffic and making him late. There were only two passengers on the bus for crying out loud. They could wait.

As soon as his feet hit the ground, the bus sped away, the driver giving him the finger through the window. Keith sighed, pulling his varsity jacket tighter around him. It still smelled faintly of cinnamon and vanilla, even though Lance had washed it before he gave it back. The scent was oddly comforting, but it didn’t help the darkness from overtaking him.

Where was he even? Keith looked at the neatly trimmed bushes that grew in rows on both sides of the road. Then he read the sign next to the bus stop “Magnolia Street”.  Seemed like some side road not too far from campus. He checked the GPS on his phone. Yup. Still over half an hour from his flat. _Splendid._

_|_ _I could go home but my head said: Don't_ _|_

Not that he wanted to go home anyways. With Shiro gone, could it even be considered a home anymore? Yes, Keith had been alone for weeks at a time before. But in the end, Shiro would always come back to stay with him, if only for a little while. This time was different. This time it was permanent.

A tear slipped from red, puffy eyes and he cursed under his breath. Nope. Not now. Not out in the open like this. Only weak people cried. People like Lance. Keith was supposed to be strong, independent. _Then why is it always you turning to **him** for support?_ A voice nagged in the back of his mind. Keith chose to ignore it.

Then his head was spinning again, and before he knew it, Keith retched and emptied his stomach in the nearest bush, trembling. He thought of what he had swallowed only hours earlier and retched again, almost relieved as he felt the stomach acid riding up his throat. It burned yes, but anything was better than the memory of that musky, bitter liquid filling his mouth. There was no way he could do that to himself again. He had to find another way to survive.

Glancing up the street, Keith noticed a familiar intersection. Is this close to Lance’s dorm? He wondered, his feet starting to walk before he could begin to second-guess himself.

 

 _|_ _I just kept on scrolling through my phone_ _|_

He should not. He really should **not**. He and Lance had just made up, and Keith could really use a friend right now. A proper friend that was not just a sex toy or a pastime. Someone to talk to about the weather, who would draw silly doodles on his arm and go on coffee hauls with him before overnight studies at the library. Someone who actually cared about his well-being and not just tried suck up to him because he was the captain of the football team or because they wanted to get in his pants.

The past week had been so fun as well. Around Lance, Keith was able to relax, let his hair down; forget the struggles of his life if only for a minute. Lately, Keith had felt more drawn to him than ever, finding himself looking for Lance in the hallway between classes, trying his best to seem nonchalant when he was caught staring. It was getting dangerous, his obsession. Making him vulnerable. It needed to stop.

_|_ _Fuck it, I just called (it ain't your fault)_ _|_

Still his feet carried him to Lance’s front door, and his fingers pulled up his number and face on his phone. What was he even doing here? It was not as if he would ever tell Lance about what had happened; it would be far too humiliating. The familiar voice popped back up in his mind: _Lance will make you feel better. Lance will make you whole._

Whole? As if someone could ever mend Keith back together again.

“Hi!” Lance’s voice was cheery but strained, guarded. Probably because it was rarely a good sign when Keith called him at night. Probably because he knew he could not say no to him if need be.

“Hi…” Keith barely managed to speak, his throat feeling hoarse and foreign, like it belonged to a stranger. His legs were jelly, about to give out beneath him, and in his head Lotor’s voice echoed, then Shiro’s. Oh, what he would give for a shot right about now.

“What’s up?” Lance asked nervously, trying to make meaningless conversation, but definitely sensing Keith’s distress on the other end of the line.

“I’m outside your dorm,” he whispered, only now realizing how much his voice was shaking. “Can you open your door, please?”

_|_ _Selfish, selfish, selfish_ _|_

“I’m kinda busy… You know, homework.” He could hear the hesitancy in Lance’s voice, knew he was only seconds away from giving in. That was a good thing, because Keith was not sure if he could hold himself upright much longer. He tried finding his words so he could coax Lance in like he normally would, but his voice was failing him, his breath turning heavy and shallow.

“… What’s wrong?” The sincere worry in Lance’s voice flushed over him like a warm gust of wind, making Keith’s desperation grow even bigger. He needed those arms around him, that soft voice whispering sweet nothings in his ear. Craved it.

_|_ _I know it's my problems_ _|_

“Just please let me in…” he gasped between breaths, feeling increasingly numb, “I need to… need to calm down.” Was that footsteps he was hearing? Thank god…

“Two seconds.”

“Thank… Thank you.”

_|_ _And I use you to solve them_ _|_

Keith was not sure if Lance pulled him in or he fell into his arms, but it did not matter. He was there. Lance was there, and Keith was safe. Every muscle in his body gave out, leaving it up to Lance to support his weight. He sniffled into his shoulder; the tears he had been pressing back now cascading down his face in waterfalls.

 

 _|_ _'Cause I'm selfish, selfish, selfish_ _|_

 

Lance pulled him tighter, wrapping his arms around him like a soft blanket, tucking him in and holding him close as he sobbed softly. Keith attempted to hug back, wanting Lance to know how much he appreciated the gesture, but his arms were weak and heavy, refusing to listen to his commands.

Instead, he just kept sobbing, tears and mucus running all over Lance’s shirt. The voices in the back of his mind weakened, drowned out by the strength of Lance’s hug and the comforting scent of his perfume mixed with a hint of chocolate. Soon, they were only a faint ringing in his ears, present but far away all the same.

“That’s it…” Lance soothed him, patting his back softly, “Let it all out.”

 

 _|_ _I know it's my issues_ _|_

 

Keith absentmindedly noticed that Lance had started to move them, but did not make an effort to help him get them from the hallway to the couch. He was not even capable of keeping his eyes open right now, let alone reactivating his muscles. All he could do was grip faintly at Lance’s shirt as he softly tagged him along across the room and onto the couch, gently dropping them down next to each other. Keith wanted to protest when their arms started detangling, but his body would not let him. Instead, he fell forward into Lance again, his head resting between his pectorals.

 

_|When I cry, you're my tissue|_

  

Lance let him stay for a few seconds before softly lowering him down on his back. He felt his head being surrounded by pillows, and reached for the closest one with trembling hands, pulling it tight. Then he opened his eyes for the first time in a while, feeling shameful as he looked into Lance’s worried blue orbs.

“I’m sorry for crashing in like this…” Keith mumbled, burying his head in the pillow to avoid Lance’s gaze. He was such an idiot, such a selfish bastard for coming here and yet again invading his personal space. Lance probably felt like an idiot for letting him, for falling back into their old habits once again. But what other choice did Keith have?

 

_|'Cause I'm selfish, selfish|_

 

“Don’t be,” Lance said, trying his best to smile at him, sympathy evident in his voice. For the third time that night, Keith felt like he was losing control, as if the universe or someone else was making the decisions for him. He hated feeling this weak and vulnerable, hated how much he needed Lance’s comfort right now. How much he yearned for it.

“Hey…” he felt a warm hand brush across his cheek, and leaned into the touch, embarrassed at how needy he seemed. Lance did not seem to mind. “I was just about to make some hot chocolate, you want some?” He attempted to nod, his face still buried inside the pillow. Lance must have understood it, because he stood up, wrapping Keith in the blanket like a cocoon before leaving for the kitchen area.

Even though Lance was only metres away, Keith felt incredibly lonely. Luckily, Lance was a loud cook, the clattering of cups and the swooping sound of heavy handed whisking serving as a comforting reminder that he had not left him completely to his own devices.

With a little effort, Keith managed to sit himself upright while still being encapsulated by the blanket. He noticed it was covered in stars and constellations, mapping out the night sky outside. Very Lance.

When Lance returned, he had two giant mugs in hand, both decorated by kittens playing with small balls of yarn. Again, very Lance. Why was Keith even this aware of Lance’s preferences by now?  From his choice in coffee and milkshake to his deep-seated obsession with space, information about Lance’s likes and dislikes were so easy to absorb and digest. At this point, Keith was sure he had an entire archive in his mind dedicated to seemingly meaningless information about him. He never actively tried to remember it; still it always seemed to automatically store itself in his subconscious, allowing him to bring it up whenever it could gain him an advantage. He never remembered such information about anyone else. In fact, he deemed it completely unnecessary. So why Lance? 

His eyes widened at the sight of the drinks, and he felt terribly shameful all over again. Lance did all of that… for him?

“Here,” Lance smiled tentatively, almost nervous as he handed Keith the mug. He could only nod, too enraptured by how hearty and flavoursome the drink in front of him looked. Keith’s perception of hot chocolate had always been the “ready to go”-bags his mom used to bring from the supermarket, supplemented by some store-bought whipped cream if he was lucky. The few times he had made it by himself, he always got impatient, never properly mixing the powder into the hot water, his drink becoming a lumpy, unattractive mess. Needless to say, he did not feel tempted to make it very often.

It seemed Lance’s hot chocolate was different, in a good way. The mug smelled richly of sugar and dark chocolate, the entire top covered in freshly whipped cream and tiny white, yellow and pink marshmallows. It looked absolutely enticing.

“Do you want me to get you some tissues?” Keith shook his head. There was no time for such formalities; he needed to try this right away. Diving into the cup headfirst, he took a large sip, not caring about how some of the cream attached to the sides of his nose as he drank. It was warm and inviting, like an evening in front of a camp fireplace toasting s’mores and cracking jokes with friends and family. Drinking it almost gave him a sense of peace. He looked up into Lance’s expectant eyes, smiling for the first time that day.

“…Wow. This is… really nice.” Lance smiled back, and a warm feeling blossomed in Keith’s chest. He scolded himself internally, pushing the thought to the back of his mind.

“Thanks, it’s our family recipe. I’m so addicted to it I can’t really do it half-assed anymore.” Lance explained, and Keith nodded. With how good this tasted, that was perfectly understandable.

“I understand why,” he said, trying his best to hide how broken his voice still was. The look in Lance’s eyes told him he failed miserably. With a sudden urge to make him happy, Keith tried his best to smile, even though he felt incredibly sombre and miserable. He managed to lift his lips just a little, but it was far from as genuine as the one before. However, it did make the worry in Lance’s eyes fade a little. At least he had accomplished something.

“So…” Lance started, leaving an awkward pause before he blurted out, “This, um, thing, you know… That happened. Do you wanna talk about it? Get it out, you know?”

Suddenly the voices were all there again. Lotor’s, Shiro’s, his parents’. Two screaming, one scolding, one whispering degrading words into his ears. Keith was a monster, a murderer, a slut. A selfish bastard that could not take care of himself nor others. He wanted to press his hands to the side of his head and scream, but he stopped himself. There was no way he could tell anyone what had happened, his façade was already cracking, several people trying to lean in and look behind the tinted glass wall. No one could know.

“Not really,” he tried sounding unbothered, but knew deep down that he was not succeeding. Suddenly he felt incredibly tired, exhausted even. He had not really had any time to recover from his workout after everything that happened, and now he started realizing to what extent he had been pushing his body, both physically and mentally. His eyes were drooping and his head threatening to fall down on his shoulder. He should probably ask Lance for something to eat, but even the thought of putting something solid in his mouth made him nauseous. No, Keith thought. He could handle the hunger.

“Ok…” Lance said, sounding slightly disappointed in his lack of progress. Then it was silent again. Silent except the voices that kept echoing in Keith’s head. Despite his angst and exhaustion, he too could feel the awkward tension filling the room. This situation was strange and different for the both of them, not like their usual carefree escapades. Though Keith’s trauma was sometimes the subtext to their encounters, it rarely ever filled the room with such raw, unfiltered emotion. Keith was too much of a master manipulator for that. Only taking what he needed from others, doing his best to hide himself from view. It had not been like this since that fateful night. The night Keith had sworn to himself he would not end up repeating. So much for that promise.

“Do you want me to pull up Netflix?” Lance asked sheepishly, and Keith nodded. Distractions were good. He welcomed distractions.

Lance grabbed the computer from the coffee table and plopped down closer him as he started typing. Part of him wanted to reach out and touch the bare skin where his wrist met his hand, carving lines into tan flesh with his fingers. Once again, he stopped himself before the thoughts could develop into something more dangerous, more vulnerable. “Any requests?”

“Idk… Something simple. Happy?” It was more of a question than a proper suggestion, Keith knew that, but in his current state, he was unable to come up with something. Shiro had always meant that watching something happy could drive you into that state of mind, and frequently put on comedic videos and Disney movies to cheer Keith up when he was younger. That was before he decided Keith was a whiny brat that could take care of his own problems. Keith felt the tears threatening to return; he should not be thinking about Shiro right now.

“Sounds good,” Lance smiled, a bit more positive than he seemed minutes ago. Keith could not tell if it was genuine happiness or just a front, but it warmed him regardless.

Lance started the movie and leaned back on the couch, his pose relaxed and open, right arm resting next to Keith’s shoulder, almost but not quite touching him. Accepting the silent invitation, Keith lowered himself into Lance’s lap, curling up into a ball. He was too tired to listen to the protests in his mind telling him this was unacceptable behaviour. In the end, he would find a way to turn the situation around. Right now, he needed comfort, and Lance was offering.

For the first half hour, he regularly sat up to take a sip of his hot chocolate, but he soon found the action too troublesome, leaving him far away from Lance’s lap for too long. Instead, he settled, drifting in and out of sleep on Lance’s lap, trying his best to let the murmurs from the movie-screen block out his thoughts.  

The hand in his hair felt grounding, gently brushing through his locks and pressing lightly at his scalp. He was not sure exactly when it had appeared, and in a moment of weakness, he caught himself wishing it could stay there forever. Dangerous thoughts. They needed to stop.

What was wrong with him? He should not even be inclined to feeling this way. The warmth, the comfort, the promise of happy future. Keith knew that it was all an illusion. Such a life did not exist for him; he had lost that chance a long time ago. Whoever bonded with him was destined to be hurt. He was a walking disaster. A wrecking ball bulldozing through everyone and everything around him. A sinking ship with only one lifejacket; always saved for himself.  There was no room for emotions in this godforsaken world. The ones who let themselves believe always ended up getting hurt. Lance was a prime example of that himself. So why was his body acting so traitorously when his mind knew such a quest was futile?

It was not as if he really cared about Lance. At least that was what he led himself to believe. If he did, he would have pushed him away a long time ago, found someone else to ruin. Not that he had not tried that, multiple times. Yet he always ended up back here somehow, and Lance was always ready to forgive him, that gullible idiot. Sometimes Keith wished he would really give him in. Punch him, scream at him, tell him this was not fair. **Walk away**.

Because Keith did not have the strength to stop, nor the will to. In the end, it seemed he was destined to ruin Lance on the path to his own destruction. Because that was all Keith was good at, ruining people. Tearing them apart piece by piece. Just as he was ruining himself. Only Keith did not want to ruin this one. Lance deserved to be whole. To be rid of him once and for all.

As always, it seemed like merely Lance’s company was not enough to calm his aching nerves. As soon as Keith let his guard down, the voices returned tenfold, the screams and curses attacking him with full force.

_“Monster. Murderer.”_

_“Filthy, worthless whore. No wonder your brother doesn’t care for you anymore.”_

_“Failure.”_

_“Keep sucking slut. It’s the only thing you’re good at._ ”

The shivers went through him like earthquakes, the vibrations from the screams threatening to burst his eardrums. Convulsing involuntarily, Keith did the only thing he could think of, gripping onto Lance’s thighs with full force, probably leaving bruises in his wake. Stop, stop. Please, just stop.

“Hey…” Lance cooed, moving down to place a kiss on his forehead. Yes, Keith’s subconscious egged him on. Lance was there, might as well use him to rid him of his nightmares. After all, that was how he was used to cope.

 

_|'Cause I'm selfish, selfish|_

 

He soared up towards Lance’s lips, flipping them around with practiced ease. Now this was something he could do. Familiar territory. Using physical pleasure to push the pain away.

Diving in, he slotted their mouths together, straddling Lance’s thighs as he desperately nibbled at his lips. The kiss was returned, but slowly, hesitantly. Still, he could feel the way Lance was squirming in pleasure beneath him. Keith sighed into his mouth, trying his best to let pleasure overtake his senses. Lance would cave; it was just a matter of minutes. He was sure of it.

When Lance instead backed away, detaching their lips and motioning for them to stop, Keith froze. Hesitation was evident in Lance’s eyes, and worry. Of course he was worried, that idiot. He never seemed to understand that this was what Keith needed, always trying to talk it out or move slower, having to be coaxed into giving in to his desires.

Keith stopped like he always did. Trying to decide on the best strategy moving forward. Forcing yourself onto someone was not always a good option, especially when that someone was such a heavy-wired romantic. Besides, sex was never fun without consent. Even Keith would not sink that low, especially after today.

“Hey… Tell me what you’re thinking ‘bout,” Lance said, looking up at him through hazed blue eyes. He wanted it, Keith could tell, but like always, he was fighting with himself. This would be so much easier if he could just give in.

“You.” Keith answered, hazy and out of breath. He tried diving in for another kiss, but Lance stopped him again, spreading a palm out across his chest. The voices kept chiming in his head, like a playlist full of songs he hated, blasting on repeat from massive speakers. _Come on, please just let me…_

 

_|Selfish, selfish|_

 

“No, the other thing. Why are you acting so strange?” God, could Lance stop being so rational right now? Keith did not need sympathy, he needed to get off. He could not stay like this, could not stay weak and vulnerable. This was him flipping the goddamn table back where it belonged. Why would Lance not let him? He could feel himself turning desperate. This was not how this was supposed to go… Keith could not breathe; his heart was pounding in his ears. This was it; he was going to lose his mind.

“It’s not that strange for me to wanna have sex with you…” Keith breathed exasperated, but Lance shook his head and sighed.

“Man, you were literally just shaking on the couch seconds ago and now you wanna fuck. That’s like, the definition of weird.”

Keith stopped in his tracks; he had no good response for that. For him, this was the norm. Except the shaking, sweating and crying happened alone, in his sleep, before he dialled Lance in the middle of the night to fix him. Lance did not know that, of course, he only knew what Keith told him. That he was restless, unable to sleep, needed to relax. He had probably pieced some stuff together after Keith had his first breakdown, but this was the first time he had properly confronted Keith’s irrational behaviour like this. Keith did not like it. It gave Lance a leg up on him, allowed him to understand things about him that he was not supposed to know.

“What’s wrong?” Lance said, the worry lacing his voice making Keith feel sick. He did what he always did, evaded the subject.

“I just need to distract myself…” He murmured, moving to lift Lance’s shirt up and over his head. Seemingly without thinking, Lance lifted his back from the couch, subconsciously helping Keith undress him. Yes, that was more like it. Give in.

Once the shirt was gone, violet orbs caught sapphire, and Keith could not help but notice the soft pink tint to Lance’s cheeks, the way his breathing had turned heavier, filling the space between them with silent anticipation. Spread out there beneath him, t-shirt riding up his stomach and hair dishevelled, Lance looked beautiful. He always did.

Keith dove in; kissing every inch of Lance he could reach. Neck, chin, forehead, nose. Then he dipped down, kissing down Lance’s chest as he reached out to pinch his nipple. Further down, lips tracing the lines of his abdominals, feeling the way the contracted when his hot breath ghosted over them. Lance made a desperate sound, somewhere between a whine and a moan, and Keith snickered fondly, proud of his achievements. _Don’t worry, I got you. No one makes you feel like I do._

_|_ _'Cause I'm selfish, selfish_ _|_

“Ahhh…” Lance moaned as Keith hiked his shirt up further, attaching his mouth to his nipple. The sound drowned out everything else, and Keith hummed contently against his pecs as Lance tossed the garment away. No need for that anymore. The more skin the better.

“Bed?” Keith mumbled, sounding as breathless as Lance looked. Nodding, Lance sat up, and Keith instinctively wrapped his arms around him. He should not. He really should not. This was way too tender. Not like him at all.

Lance understood what he wanted, and stood up, gripping onto Keith’s butt to keep him from falling as he adjusted his hold. Then his lips attached to Keith’s neck and he wanted to sing. _Yes, right there_. Nothing like a good hickey to drive the demons away. Keith snuggled in closer, feeling Lance’s heartbeat through his chest. So warm, so comforting.

“You want to be pampered, huh?” Keith could tell from Lance’s voice that he was smiling, and he was stupid enough to lift his head to nod, causing said smile to bedazzle him with full force. He could feel the heat rise to his cheeks, diving back to hide his face as best as he could. But Lance’s raised heartbeat did not lie, he had seen it. _Fuck._

Everything was just so confusing. Keith could feel Lance carrying them towards the bedroom. His arms were far too comforting for Keith’s sanity. Could he just hurry up already? This was getting too close. Too intimate.

Finally, Lance dropped them onto the bed, but instead of waiting for Keith to flip them around like he usually did, he leaned in, slotting their lips together like gears moving in synchrony. Surprising himself, Keith gave in; let Lance be in charge for once. Opened his mouth and let Lance’s tongue explore him in an almost caressing way.

Then Lance started stripping him of his garments one by one, leaving Keith bare and vulnerable against the sheets. He squirmed uncomfortably under the loving gaze of blue eyes. Why was he moving so slowly? Why did he have to keep looking at Keith like that? His mind could not handle it. All the sensations, all the emotion in his movements. It was too much.

“… You’re beautiful.” Lance breathed, and Keith’s traitorous heart skipped a beat. He could not recall ever being called that.

“…Really?” Keith asked, even though he knew the answer. Of course, he was not. Pretty? Handsome? That might be, but his soul was too dark and tainted for someone to be able to look past it. Not even Lance could…

“Definitely. The prettiest guy I’ve ever laid eyes on.” Lies. All lies. It had to be. Keith could not live with himself if it was true. Not considering what he had put this boy through, what he was now about to do to him.

“Thanks…” He mumbled, avoiding Lance’s piercing gaze, certain he would break if he looked into those eyes again, a sudden urge to run coursing through his body.

Lance kept controlling the pace, moving agonizingly slow as he undressed himself, and even slower as he grinded his hips softly against Keith’s, kissing him with such reverence Keith forgot how to breathe. Conflicted, his body responded with need and fervour to Lance’s ministrations, but his mind was panicking. What was he thinking? If he did not back down now, leaving Lance this time would break him for good.

But Lance’s touch was so soft, his kisses so loving, and Keith was a weak, terrible, selfish man.

“Tell me what you want,” Lance whispered, dragging his nails across Keith’s chest. “Should I prep myself? You can just sit back and watch.”

The intense longing, mixed with lust and something Keith had come to identify as hurt laced Lance’s words as they left his mouth. Why did he always so desperately want to please him? Keith did not usually mind, always too caught up in the moment to think of Lance’s needs, apart from imminent sexual release. In this context, it became so painfully obvious how much he cared for him, how he would do anything to make Keith’s pain go away. Love makes you crazy, they said. Keith would not know.

He flickered his eyes to the wall, pondering a dangerous decision. What was it that Lance wanted out of this, besides the obvious thing he could not have? And would Keith feel better if he gave it to him? Looking at the way Lance hovered over him, their chests millimetres from touching, hands caging Keith’s head against the pillow, he made his choice.

“I…” Keith bit his lower lip nervously, reluctant at the thought of giving up control. “Switch with me,” he mumbled, holding Lance’s sapphire eyes with his gaze. They seemed to glaze over, pupils becoming impossibly wide at the suggestion.

For a quick second, Keith was proud. He had been right. Had known exactly what Lance wanted to do to him in that moment. Caught him off guard. A masterful mind reader.

Then he panicked, once again wondering if he had lost his mind. Keith had never… What was he even thinking? He could not just decide to do this all of sudden. What if he did not like it? What would happen if he liked it too much?

“I’m not sure I’m following you…” Lance said hesitantly, his breath hot against Keith’s face. Keith was not sure he was following either, if he was being completely honest.

“Uhm… Could you prep me? I wanna switch,” he half spoke, half whispered, not sure where to place his eyes. They ended up on Lance’s chest, counting the freckles dusted lightly across his torso. It seemed less terrifying than looking back into the all-consuming supernova that was his eyes.

No answer. Not even a sound escaped Lance’s mouth. It was as if he had stopped functioning all together. Maybe Keith had read him wrong after all. Maybe this was not what he had wanted. Why did that thought make him feel so undesirable?

“…I… I mean… Uhhh…We don’t have to if you don’t…,”

“No, no, no. I really want to. Believe me, I really do. You just… caught me off guard, that’s all.” Lance said, moving to kiss the side of his neck. Keith arched up and into the touch. That was more like it.

The kisses grew more heated after that, the touches more urgent, and soon, they were back into that hungry, animalistic rhythm where Keith felt most comfortable. That was until Lance’s lubed finger started slowly circling his entrance, reminding him of what he had prompted them to do. He immediately froze, feeling every muscle in his body tensing, anticipating pain.

“Hey...” Again with that worried tone. “Have you done this before?” _No. And I was not really planning on ever doing it either._ “I just… You seem tense.” Lance noted, nuzzling into his neck. Again with that tenderness. Keith’s heart fluttered. He hated it.

“It’s been a while,” he lied, forcing himself to relax. God, he was supposed to be the experienced one, the one calling the shots, setting the pace. Why was he doing this to himself? “Just… Be gentle, ok?”

“Always,” Lance smiled, and Keith felt the finger returning, gently probing against his entrance but not pushing through, waiting for him to relax his muscles. Keith took a deep breath and felt the finger breach his opening. It was not painful, just strange, foreign. Was this how Lance felt when he moved inside of him? It seemed slightly intrusive.

He felt a tongue swiping over his nipples, and in a moment of distraction, the finger started to move. Keith was sure Lance had to have picked up that move from him; it felt far too familiar.

“This ok?” Lance asked, kissing his forehead. Always such a gentleman. Keith nodded faintly. It was strange, but he could get used to it. Even so, he had already decided he would not put himself in this position again. He felt far too vulnerable.

Lance opened him slowly, taking his time and recognizing Keith’s hesitance. He clearly knew what he was doing, brushing lightly against spots inside Keith that made his body feel more pliant and open, soon taking in not just one but several fingers. Keith was not sure when the sensation moved from weird to pleasant, but the interval between his moans became shorter, and his urge to buck his hips up more frequent.

He caught himself wondering who else had been in this bed with Lance for him to learn this, how long it had been since he had slept with anyone else. Not that it should matter; Keith was with a different guy every other night. Still who had he been? Or she for that matter. Had they treated him well? Maybe he should have stayed with whoever that was instead of straying off with Keith. He might have had a chance at happiness.

His thoughts were interrupted as Lance shoved his fingers in deeper, hitting Keith’s prostate and lighting him up like a Christmas tree. He whimpered, feeling his legs start cramping, his cock dripping precome all over his thighs. That was close, coming this soon would have been incredibly embarrassing. Looking up, he caught Lance’s enamoured eyes staring down at him, a smirk forming on his lips.

“Did you like that?” Keith could only nod in response, the overstimulation making him hazy. Lance thrusted into him again, and Keith was sure he was having an out of body experience. _Aaaahh… Lance… More._ Lance’s smirk grew wider, and Keith felt like slapping a hand over his mouth. He did  **not** just say that out loud, did he?

Seconds later, he felt Lance’s dripping hard cock rubbing against his entrance. Only minutes earlier, Keith would have been completely opposed to the idea of giving himself up like this, but in the moment, all he could feel was a building anticipation. _Come on, just do it!_

“Do you want this?” Keith let out an impossibly desperate noise. God, this was embarrassing. Could Lance just give it to him already? He did not want to humiliate himself even further. “Tell me how much you want it,” Lance whispered with a seductiveness Keith did not know he possessed. Why was that so hot? Keith could not control himself any longer.

“Please…” he begged, and Lance obeyed.

There were no words to describe the strange, overwhelming sensation of being filled to the brink. Keith had never experienced anything like it. It was so immensely different from all his previous sexual encounters, but pleasant all the same. The closeness was familiar, the boiling sensation pooling in his abdomen, but the press inside of him was different, as was the lack of active stimulation towards his member. That did not stop the sensation from being outright blissful, though he felt much more exposed than normally.

Lance seemed to enjoy himself as well, letting out a string of curse words as he bottomed out, his chest vibrating against Keith’s own. Keith dug his nails into Lance’s lower back, earning him a soft whimper.

“Can I move?” Keith felt his lips curling upwards. Lance was always so polite, so gentle, even like this.

“Yeah… It’s ok.” He answered breathlessly, whining embarrassingly loud as Lance pushed back in.

Lance moved slowly, tantalizingly so, but even at this pace Keith was breaking. On the edge after only seconds of stimulation, gasping when Lance’s cock brushed that spot inside of him. His entire body felt weightless, muscles tensing and retracting as he rode out his high, come spurting from his untouched cock onto his stomach. He could feel himself contracting around Lance’s member, and soon he released as well, making Keith feel even fuller than he already was.

Lance collapsed on top of him, breathing heavily. Instinctually, Keith wrapped his arms around him, rolling them over to the side and nuzzling into his chest. He felt wet and sticky, but not used. This was surprisingly nice.

_I could stay like this for a while._

The intrusive thought scared him, but he was too tired to deal with the consequences of his actions, too busy settling into Lance’s warm embrace, listening to the gradual calming of his erratic heartbeat. Keith sighed as Lance started placing tender kisses along the nape of his neck.

“Ummm… Keith?” Keith huffed at the unwelcome intrusion, still basking in his afterglow. Glazed amethyst eyes searched for blue ones, wondering what on Earth could be so important that Lance had to bring it up right now.

_|_ _I know you don't want me to leave_

 _But you're not asking me to stay_ _|_

“It’s getting real late… Maybe you should get going.” Keith could hear how conflicted his voice sounded, his rationality trying to battle with his heart, destined to fail. It was impressive that he still bothered trying, even though they both knew how it would end. Keith pursed his lips, intensifying his gaze a little. Lance looked away.

“I’m not allowed to have people stay overnight in the dorms…” He was lying. Keith could tell. Lance had never been good at that, he was too easy to read. His emotions always visible on the outside. The opposite of Keith’s calm front. If there was chaos in Lance’s mind, it showed. “And there’s class tomorrow…” All his arguments fell flat even before he had finished uttering them, his body betraying him with how he was subconsciously pulling Keith closer.

“Ten more minutes…” Keith murmured into his chest, knowing he did not even need to put up a fight this time. Lance was doing that for him. He pushed the brewing guilt to the back of his mind. It had already spiralled out of control; there was no point in stopping now. He was tired, and though he did not initially want to admit it, Lance made a terrific pillow.

A few minutes later, Lance nudged him, probably to check if he had fallen asleep. He did not respond, figuring it was better if he did not know he was still awake. Tan arms pulled him closer, and Keith felt that familiar lump of guilt build in his throat. Why did Lance put up with this? He could do so much better.

_|_ _You wear you heart on your sleeve_

 _Though I keep on doing this my way_ _|_

 

Lance placed as soft kiss on his temple, his voice praising him in a different language, probably Spanish. It sounded so heartfelt and sincere, even though Keith did not know the meaning of the words. Maybe it was for the better, Lance clearly did not mean for him to hear them anyway.

Listening to the soft thrumming of Lance’s heart, Keith allowed himself to drift off, hoping this would be one of those rare nights were he had a good dream, terrified that dream would involve homemade hot chocolate and the familiar smell of sweat and Cuba Gold. 

* * *

 

Keith woke in panic, his heart galloping in his chest. At first he felt trapped, the arms around him pressing against his ribcage, making it hard to breathe. Then he remembered it was Lance, and managed to calm himself slightly.

Adjusting his eyes to the dim light, he searched the room for a watch, desperate to know the time. God, he was such an idiot! How long had he been out for? He needed to leave, right now!

The green neon light from the nightstand shone towards him: 05:30 AM. _Shit! Shit, shit, shit…_

He carefully removed himself from Lance’s arms, scrambling to his feet to grab his underwear. Lucky for him, Lance had thrown all his clothes into a neat pile, making it easier to avoid making noise as he carefully slipped into them piece by piece. He scanned the room for his bag, and remembered he left it outside the dorm. _All good to go then, I guess…_

He felt himself hesitate and look over his shoulder, catching Lance’s naked body draped in the sheets, now hugging a pillow in place of Keith, warm freckles mapping out across his back.

Had he always been this pretty? Probably. It should not matter. Did not matter. He had to leave now. Sighing, Keith ran pale fingers through sweaty black hair. He had really messed up this time, had he not?

Looking over at the Lance’s desk, he saw a textbook and a pen. Should he leave him a message? Say he was sorry? Keith bit his lip before sighing again, walking over to rip off a piece.

_|_ _… (It ain’t your fault)_ _|_

_I’m sorry I did this to you. I’m an asshole…_

_~~You deserve better~~ _

_~~Leave while you can~~ _

He rolled up the note and tossed it into the bin. Too regretful, too personal. Too real. Fuck, maybe this was a bad idea. He should just leave and hope Lance got over him. It would be better that way. Still, Keith ripped off another piece, survival instinct winning over guilt as he wrote.

_Last night never happened…_

In itself, that probably would have been brutal enough, but Keith could not help himself as he remembered how peaceful Lance had seemed next to him.

_PS: You look cute when you sleep_

No, scratch that out. He could not. Should not do this to him.

_|_ _Selfish, selfish, selfish_ _|_

Lance hummed in his sleep, rustling with the blankets. Fuck, Keith needed to leave; he could wake up any minute. He took one last look at the note before he placed it onto the nightstand. The text was still readable, but there was no time to change it now. The damage was done.

Keith strode out the door before he could do anything else he would regret, and soon he was dragging himself down the block to the bus stop, heavy-hearted and disgusted with himself. Worried what the future had in store for him. He looked down at his phone and sighed.

**Shiro – Seven missed calls**

What was he supposed to do now?

 

* * *

 

_|_ I _feel out of focus,_  
Or at least indisposed  
As this strange weather pattern  
Inside me takes hold.

  
Each brave step forward,  
I take three steps behind.  
It's mind over matter -  
Matter over mind.

 _Slowly, then all at once._  
A single loose thread,  
And it all comes undone… _|_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like this story, please give me a kudos down below, or maybe even a comment. That would mean the absolute world to me <3
> 
> Once again I want to apologize to Keith and Lance for everything I'm putting them through... If you need a pick-me-up from this you can check out my super cheesy Tinder AU "It's a match", which I proof that I'm not in fact dead inside and can write positively themed fics too cx 
> 
> Until next time, whenever that may be!
> 
> Edit:  
> I totally forgot to put up the updated Keith playlist. 
> 
> 1\. Incapable – Julie Bergan  
> 2\. Selfish – Julie Bergan  
> 3\. Youth – Daughter  
> 4\. Unhinged – Nick Jonas  
> 5\. Too Good at Goodbyes – Sam Smith  
> 6\. Someone else – SayWeCanFly  
> 7\. Wilson (Expensive mistakes) – Fall Out Boy  
> 8\. Just one Yesterday – Fall Out Boy  
> 9\. Us – Julie Bergan  
> 10\. Good guy – Zayn  
> 11\. You Wish You Knew – Zayn  
> 12\. In my blood - Shawn Mendes  
> 13\. How to love – Lil Wayne  
> 14\. Stupid Deep – Jon Bellion  
> 15\. Atlas: Heart - Sleeping At Last  
> 16\. Atlas: Nine - Sleeping At Last (This is the lyrics at the end of this chapter. This song also seems to describe a lot of the emotions that come up when I write Keith's POV)  
> 17\. Last night - GRAACE  
> 18\. How to be a heartbreaker - Marina and the Diamonds  
> 19\. Atlas: Eight - Sleeping At Last 
> 
>  
> 
> (I just also wanna mention the song Atlas: Two, which is very much Lance's POV for this particular chapter, with a bit of an angsty aftertaste. It will end up on his playlist in the last chapter. I mean: "It's okay if you can't catch your breath, You can take the oxygen straight out of my own chest" I died)

**Author's Note:**

> Whenever I sit down to write this it seems to get increasingly darker… I would like to apologize to Keith and Lance for my horrible treatment of them. So much angst, no relief in sight. 
> 
> Again, I recommend listening to the track that is cited in this chapter, “Selfish” by Julie Bergan, either prior to, during or after you have read the chapter. I think it gives off a unique atmosphere, and I have used that feeling a lot when building up this chapter. 
> 
> The song is probably a lot more superficial than what I have interpreted it as in this fic, but it still bears a lot of angst and guilt with it, in my opinion. While the line about old playlists really isn’t anything to read into, I still felt it resonated with the feeling of having memories haunting you that you cannot seem to let go off. 
> 
> Anyways, if you liked this fic, please give it a kudos. And if you really enjoyed it, you could even leave a comment below. Tell me if it was good, what your favorite part was, or just leave some hearts or a smiley for good measure. Writers love that shit, we feed off it! 
> 
> Make sure to also read “New Rules”, which is the mirror of this fic in Lance’s POV. In the future I will probably release new chapters for both of them simultaneously, as that will make the story easier for you to follow! 
> 
> Just as for Lance’s fic, I will leave a playlist for Keith here, conveying the mood:  
> 1\. Incapable – Julie Bergan (Give this a listen, this is the title track for the Keith part of the fic)  
> 2\. Selfish – Julie Bergan  
> 3\. Youth – Daughter (This one makes me cry… Also used in the beginning of this chapter)  
> 4\. Unhinged – Nick Jonas  
> 5\. Too Good at Goodbyes – Sam Smith  
> 6\. Someone else – SayWeCanFly  
> 7\. Wilson (Expensive mistakes) – Fall Out Boy  
> 8\. Just one Yesterday – Fall Out Boy  
> 9\. Us – Julie Bergan  
> 10\. Good guy – Zayn  
> 11\. You Wish You Knew – Zayn  
> 12\. In my blood - Shawn Mendes  
> 13\. How to love – Lil Wayne  
> 14\. Stupid Deep – Jon Bellion 
> 
> More will come as the story moves forward. 
> 
> Until next time, have a good one!


End file.
